3/31/2005

All my appetites satisfied, there is nothing left but the dishes. Clean up the kitchen, wash down the floors, find some dignity in that day-to-day activity. We need to clean the rug, to be outdoors, I need to hike the moors, to climb the hills, he needs to pay the dealer, to figure out his bills.

I dropped you off in evening and you kissed me on the cheek. Now it's the middle of the night, and I want to have a fistfight.

So much piffle, the dribble swill, the repetitive motions every morning, and so much love and you can’t even see it. Why do you sit there stare and wonder; you are a coward. I am Circe, turning men to pigs and eating their bones. I am Flash, I am Lightning; you are not any of these things. You hopeless romantic, you can't anthropomorphize a thundershower – it’s a slap in the face to Reason. (Haha, I said 'reason' with a capital R)

Bless those who sweeten the world. Bless them with more than sugar. Bless them with money, wine, and health.

I was putting all my madness on this screen, so everything else could be rational, straightforward and good.

The autobiographer threatens me with his record of iniquity: “I’ll tell you about my first kiss. I’ll tell you about the first time I shoplifted. I’ll tell you about the first time I stole a car. And the first time I rolled a bum. First time I got into a fight. Soon, I’m going to tell you everything… It will scare the hell out of you.”I was conjuring something from nothing, defying laws of conservation of mass, laws of energy I couldn’t afford to believe. I had to believe in miracles. There was a time I couldn’t offer anything but reason, then one day I took it all away and torched it before I realized what was happening. Now I was drifting free, anchorless and in excruciating bliss.

I had become one of my poems. They were prophetic that way. I couldn’t control what got written, and I was wondering how what was written presently would impact me down the road. But I didn't care; I wasn't even capable of caring. I was on the other side. I had swum through that river, I was done stinking from self-deception and obscene toothless excuses. I was done lying. I couldn't afford to any more, because by the time we get to the end of it all there's just one brilliant explosive instant supernova where we get remember everything that's true.